


St. Judy\\'s Comet

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-22
Updated: 2006-03-22
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:13:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: R/Hr at the burrow, shortly before leaving to look for Horcruxes with Harry. Oneshot.





	St. Judy\\'s Comet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

They had played Quidditch rather hard that day, and Ron Weasley couldn’t help but sigh loudly as he fell with a satisfying whoosh onto his cool, soft bed. He had stayed up late playing wizard’s chess with Harry—it was almost three o’ clock in the morning. Ron had bested Harry almost four times, and he had won a couple sickles in the process. Could've been galleons, but Ron wouldn't let Harry bet that much. The freckled boy punched his pillow and curled up, willing sleep to slowly settle into his exhausted limbs.

But he could not sleep. They were biding their time here at the Burrow: he, Harry, and Hermione. Soon, Harry would go back to Privet drive, then to Godric’s Hollow. And they would go with him. But for now, his mum had wrangled them into staying until after Bill and Fleur’s wedding. 

It was worse, Ron thought, waiting here. He couldn’t really blame Harry for pretending to be normal for only a few more days. Hermione was even more nervous than the two of them combined. She still read, Ron saw, but for long periods of time, her eyes wouldn’t move behind the pages, and he knew she was thinking about what would happen. She had stopped trying to play Quidditch--maybe because she didn’t have the energy to laugh at missed catches and poor shots. Hermione was awful at Quidditch, yet he still missed her on his team when they played.

But Ron really hated night. He couldn’t busy himself at night. There was nothing to do but think. He groaned as someone shook him by the shoulder.

“Geroff, Harry,” he muttered into his pillow. 

“It’s not Harry, Ron,” said a voice, too high to be male. Ron felt all the drowsiness of sleep disappear, and he wrenched his eyes open.

Hermione Granger was sitting on the edge of his bed.

Immediately, he sat straight up, and pulled his sheets around him. He had not worn a shirt to sleep that night; it had been too hot. Hermione turned her eyes away, politely, and bit her lower lip.

“What—what are you doing here?” he managed to choke out, looking at Harry in the dark suspiciously. No, he was still asleep. He looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts that left her tan legs bare. Ron noticed, also, from the way the cotton shirt hung off her body, that she was not wearing a bra. He blushed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I wanted to show you something,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her bushy brown hair was tied back, so that Ron could see her face, and how smooth her cheeks were, more than usual.

“Well—damn—let me get a shirt on,” he coughed. “Hermione, you can’t just come in here! What if I—or Harry—was...I dunno?” He felt his cheeks turning red as the thought of being naked with Hermione surfaced his mind. He pushed it away and looked at the bottom of the bed. “Give it here,” he said, gesturing to the crumpled shirt.

His bedsprings groaned as Hermione stood up and crept to the end. She threw the shirt at him, pulling a face. “Like I could see anything in this light. It’s really the same as wearing a bathing suit,” she said sensibly.

“No, it’s not,” Ron objected, pulling the shirt over his head and trying to show the least amount of skin possible. He squinted through the darkness. “Well? What did you want to show me?”

“Honestly,” Hermione said, standing up, and Ron could see that there was a book tucked under one of her arms. “You don’t know?”

Ron shook his head and looked at everything but Hermione, as if he could find the answer hidden somewhere in the corner. “No idea, really,” he shrugged. 

“I thought you wouldn’t,” Hermione said, and Ron bristled a bit. But before he could start another row, Hermione pulled the book out and laid it in his lap, turning back the pages until she arrived at a particularly dog eared one.

“See?” she said eagerly, pointing at a block of text.

"It's dark out still; I can’t read,” Ron snapped, feeling stupid.

“Oh,” said Hermione, and she laughed, looking at him carefully. “Well, there’s a comet tonight.”

“Tonight? I dunno--I think they're really rare,” Ron said. He squinted at the window, as if expecting to see the comet flying past at the very moment, like a Quidditch player on a broom.

“They are rare,” Hermione said, sitting back down on his bed. “That’s the whole point.”

Ron tried very hard to sit still next to her. She must have taken a bath; he wrinkled his nose as he smelled some of his soap. She must have borrowed it without asking. By the left corner of her mouth was a small, white fleck of toothpaste. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed it off. Hermione looked at him suddenly, her dark eyes glittering and her face hard to read. 

“You had something on your face,” Ron said bluntly, holding out his hand.

“Oh, thanks,” she replied, sounding relieved. Hermione sighed loudly, as if she had been holding her breath. “Do--d’you want to see the comet?” she asked finally, quietly.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Ron said. “Where?”

“I thought we could just go out back,” Hermione said, reaching out across Ron’s lap and closing the book. She drew it up to her chest and looked at the floor as she stood up again.

“Should…should I wake Harry?” Ron asked hesitantly. He didn’t want Harry to come, and he knew it was wrong, but he didn’t want Harry to come.

“I think he needs his sleep,” Hermione said quietly, turning and walking out the door. At its frame, she looked over her shoulder and sighed. “I’m so worried about him, Ron.”

Ron walked towards her, and rubbed his eyes. “Me too.”

Ron and Hermione were quiet all the way up to the back door. There was something surreal, Ron thought, about seeing everything at night. Nothing was ever the same; Hermione, for one. He’d never seen her so graceful. Her bare feet padded with utmost ease across the leaky floorboards of the kitchen. 

When they were outside, and walking through the grass, Hermione turned to Ron and smiled. “Thanks for coming out with me,” she said quietly. 

“No problem,” Ron said, in a gruffer voice than he intended. He cleared his throat. “Do you want to sit—”

“Here?” Hermione said. “Alright.” She glanced around and carefully lowered herself down onto the dark, soft grass. Ron watched her rock back and forth as she crossed her legs, and then sat himself. She was peeling off the wet blades of grass that had stuck to her and throwing them into the breeze.

“So, this comet, do you think it means anything?” Ron asked, determined to keep his voice casual.

“You know I hate Divination; I don’t know,” she replied, looking up at him. Her eyes were wide and glassy. “I just don’t know…anything really. Ron, do you ever think of what would happen if…if…” She broke off and ripped up a handful of grass. “I don’t even need to say it anymore, do I?”

Ron looked at her, and rubbed his eyes slowly, tiredly. “Well, that’s not going to happen,” he said definitely, with more confidence than he felt. “I mean, it can’t. Harry reckons he knows how to defeat him now, and he’s beat him almost four times, if you count the Chamber. He’s got to do it.”

“But what if he doesn’t? Sometimes, I just wish I could wake up from all this and go back to being a Muggle,” Hermione said quietly. She laughed a sad little laugh. “I suppose that isn’t very brave of me.”

“You’re one of the bravest people I know,” Ron said truthfully. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“I’m not brave,” Hermione said. “I just care too much about everyone to leave: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, Harry…and you.”

Ron felt as though he had suddenly fallen off his broom. “I…care too. About you, I mean.” It was as if the words hadn’t really left his mouth. He could feel them leaping off his tongue and could do nothing to stop them.

Hermione’s eyes widened, and then she smiled. “I…thanks,” she said. 

Ron wanted to say something to make her smile again; anything. But what he felt was just too precious fit into words; it was like wrapping a pearl in newsprint. His words were too clumsy to even come close to what he meant. So Ron didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out and clasped Hermione’s hand in his. 

It was softer than what he imagined, and there were pieces of grass clinging to it. But it was Hermione’s, and she moved a little closer to him. They sat in silence like that until Hermione stirred, and still not taking her hand from Ron’s, pointed out something on his far left.

“Oh—look!” she said suddenly. She shifted, but didn’t let go of his hand. Her grip didn’t even loosen.

And then, there it was. At first, Ron couldn’t see anything, but then he followed Hermione’s eyes to where the streak of light was roaming across the sky. It was red, and it was orange and it was yellow, but it was so brilliantly bright that it seemed impossible to place a color on it. A spray of diamonds, that magnified the deep blues and whites of stars, was left in its wake. 

Ron looked at Hermione, seeing the comet’s sparkling reflection in her wide, brown eyes. They looked even darker than usual—a deep, liquid black. The only other light he could see was from the fireflies. Every so often, they flashed and glowed. One hovered above Hermione’s nose.

And even though Ron knew that he was only seventeen, and that it couldn’t possibly be real love yet, he was sure that it was the closest thing he’d ever felt. And even though he knew he might die, he was glad that Hermione would be by his side.

Ron Weasley, stupid and seventeen, leaned over, and kissed Hermione for the first time.


End file.
